A Chance at Love (2 page)

L
ying in bed the next morning and not wanting to get up, I began to think. My mind went back to that angel I saw last night at the church. Was she just like all the other girls my path had crossed in the past, or was she different? Many of the girls I had dated in high school always talked about others our age while I longed for deeper conversation. Often I find myself wondering if I’ll ever meet a girl who is deeper than the puddles I find outside after a spring rain.

Pushing her to the back of my mind, I decided to get out of bed. I played video games for an hour and then headed out to the kitchen to satisfy my growling stomach before I hit the shower and headed off to work. Having a job was something I used to long for when I was younger—even a few years ago I did—but now that I have one, I hate it. That realization worried me. It made me wonder how much more in life I was wrong about.

As I walked into the kitchen, my eyes landed on my parents. Similar to two zombies that were raised from the dead, my parents sat at the kitchen table clutching cups of coffee as they covered their foreheads with their hands, trying to shield their regret from the night before.

“You do know it’s
literally
poison you’re putting in your bodies, right?” I asked, heading for the coffee pot.

“Shh . . .” my mother said with a soft and remorseful tone.

I laughed and poured coffee into my mug. My father looked over at me and said, “You don’t drink coffee.”

“Yeah I do, Dad. You’re just normally at work around this time.”

He looked over at my mom and asked without raising his voice too much, “When did this start, Lucy?”

“Frank, he was drinking a cup of coffee just the other day when you were home to grab your work keys,” she replied.

“Hmm . . .” he replied, not seeming to care. He shrugged and slowly brought his cup up to his lips.

I sat my coffee mug down at the table, and it made a small clanking noise as it hit the surface.

“Quiet down!” my father scolded.

I laughed and sat down at the table with my parents. A few minutes went by with silence at the table, and then my mother got up and went into the other room.

“How was your shift last night?” my father asked.

“Fine.”

“Fine? The roads were bad yesterday. My buddy, Pete, from work said he slid off the road once on his way over.”

I nodded as I finished taking a drink of my coffee. “They were slick, but it worked out. This dude at a church tried to tip me like $75.”

“
Tried?
”

I nodded. “Yeah. Tried. I refused it.”

“That was stupid. That’s a great tip you passed up,” he retorted.

“I don’t need handouts.”

“That’s stupid, Son. What do you call living rent-free at my house? That’s a handout! That guy was just trying to be nice.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Not taking handouts is what you taught me.”

“Yeah. From the government! This is your job. Someone wants to tip you for a job well done, take the money!” He began laughing as he shook his head. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off mean. I’m just baffled, Son.”

“I get it.”

Not long after my conversation with my father, I headed to the shower and then took off to work.

After my shift that day, I went over to my friend, Jake’s, place. He had been my buddy for over a decade, and we shared not only an interest for deep discussions about life, but a passion for gaming. He moved out of his parents’ and into an apartment with the help of his grandmother co-signing on the lease. Within a week of being on his own, he snagged a dream job with a local magazine that publishes monthly. He’s paid per article he writes and doesn’t have to punch a clock.

When I walked into his apartment, Jake’s eyes were glued to his TV and his butt to his gaming chair. Without stopping his game, he dropped his headphones to his neck and said, “Sup, Kyle.”

“Just got off work. What’s up with you?”

“Just gaming. How was work?”

“It was all right,” I replied as I watched him climb through a tunnel with his gun on the screen. “Wanna go up to The Abby?”

The Abby was a large hill just north of Spokane, off the freeway and down a beaten path. It had the perfect view of the entire city, and it was the perfect spot to sit, chill and think about life. Jake and I often went up there with a twelve pack of soda and would just stare at the stars as we talked about girls, life and the futures we had before us.

He shook his head. “Not really.”

I sighed.

“Why do you like that place so much? It doesn’t hold the same value to me anymore.”

“Whatever. We’ve been up there plenty of times. It’s cool.”

“Yeah—in high school, when I needed to get out of my parents’ house. I’m on my own now. I don’t need that.” His eyes stayed on the TV.

“Man . . . there’s got to be more to life than this.”

He paused his game and furrowed his eyebrows at me as he turned around. “What do you mean?”

“I just work, sleep, eat, game, work, sleep, eat.”

He laughed. “Well, we’re only nineteen. We have our whole lives ahead of us, right? There’s getting married. Kids. Family. Stuff that we’ll do eventually. Oh. College—can’t forget about that. For you, of course. I already have it figured out.”

“What? The magazine?”

“Yeah, Dude. I love my job. I won’t ever punch a clock.”

“You don’t know that. The magazine could go under or you could get fired.”

He shook his head. “They’re here for the long haul.” He turned back to his game and resumed playing.

“Yeah. I’m going to head up to The Abby.” I stood up and headed for the door.

“All right, see ya.”

Pulling my hood up and over my head, I dipped my chin and hurried out the door and through the blowing snow out to my car.

On the drive up to The Abby, I turned the radio on. Listening to an acapella version of Holy Night, I thought of that girl that I had seen the day before at the church.
Man, she was beautiful
, I thought to myself. Remembering the stage, I realized there was Christmas related stuff behind her. I got to thinking that maybe they had a Christmas service I could attend. Maybe I could see her again. She did smile when she looked at me, and she even laughed. My chances were good, but I didn’t enjoy the fact that she was a church girl. Dating someone religious didn’t particularly interest me, as they usually desired like-minded people for relationships or to convert the ones who weren’t.

Upon arriving at The Abby, the snow slowed down. I parked my car and got up on the hood. Sitting down, I looked out across the city and took in all the lights. Being up on that hill and seeing all of Spokane at once made me feel like I could do anything. My mind would naturally unclutter and the turmoil of deciding what to do with my life would dissipate. The perfect view reminded me of how big the world was, but also how small—from the right perspective. At the ripe age of nineteen, I contemplated life’s purpose and what value I had in the world. Hopelessness pursued me as I searched for meaning in life.

When I had graduated high school, my grandpa told me he’d pay for my college education, no strings attached. With my above-average SAT scores I could go to almost any college I wanted, but I had no clue where I would go. My uncle Brady also approached me. He worked at a software place up in Redmond and offered me a job in his division since I had a great deal of experience with coding, but I wasn’t sure if that was what I wanted to do either. I had plenty of options, but no desire to move in any particular direction.

Spending the next hour on the hood of my car, I debated with myself about what to do with my life moving forward. For a few minutes, I latched onto the idea of going to college for Computer Science, but then the next moment, my mind would press in the fact that I didn’t love programming. I only liked it. My mind went back and forth, like it often does, and by the time an hour had passed, I was mentally exhausted. These times in which I thought deeply and for long stints were painful. The weight of the world rested on the decisions I had before me.

Giving up, I got in my car and headed home.

Walking in the side door to the kitchen, I saw that my parents were still awake and sitting at the kitchen table. They appeared to be almost waiting for me. Glancing at my phone, I saw it was after eleven already.

“Thought you guys would be asleep by now.”

My mother stood up and came over to me. Her eyes were red and swollen. I could tell she had been crying. “Honey . . . have a seat,” she said. Her words echoed pain as each one slipped from her mouth. I expected the worst.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as I walked over and took a seat at the table.

“Your Grandma Ruth. She’s not doing well.”

“Did she fracture her hip again?”

“She bruised it,” my mother replied.
At least she’s alive
, I thought to myself.

The last time my grandma hurt her hip, Joanie went and spent time up at her house. She hated it and reported back afterward that she would never go to Grandma’s house again. Grandma came from a different generation than us kids. With her Bible, her piano and passion to right the wrong in children, she was a bit more than Joanie could handle.

“I work,” I replied, knowing where the conversation was going. “I can’t.”

“C’mon, Kyle,” my mother pleaded. “It’s just for a bit.”

“It’s your mom. Why don’t you go?” I asked, rising to my feet. “I don’t get why you make us go over there while you stay home. You obviously don’t like her a whole lot.”

“I have the preschool to run.”

“What about Pilo’s? I have a job, Mom!”

“That’s why we waited up—so you could call them,” she replied. “Can you please call and see if you can just get a week or two off for a family emergency? If you can’t, then this is a moot point.”

“Yeah, I’ll try,” I said as I pulled my phone out and called. Glancing at the clock, I knew Jessica would still be there. She had been working a bunch of extra shifts after a couple of people had quit. Between being short-handed and it being the holidays, I felt confident about not being able to get the time off.

To my surprise, Jessica had hired three new people that day and she was more than willing to give me the time off. My mother danced around the kitchen in glee as she overheard the news.

Shaking my head in disbelief as I hung up the phone with Jessica, I headed out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room. Slamming the door shut, I lay down on my bed and crossed my legs and arms. How could I be stuck doing this? There must be a way out! I’m nineteen! I’m an adult.

My father knocked a few minutes later.

“Come in,” I said curtly.

He came into my room and sat at the foot of the bed. His back was toward me as he leaned over and rubbed his temples. “Your grandmother is a wise lady. She knows a lot about life and just needs some help. You’ll like spending the time with her, Kyle.”

“It doesn’t matter if she’s wise,” I replied. “She was mean to Joanie, Dad. Plus, she’s crazy for Jesus.”

He turned and looked at me. “You don’t believe in God?”